


You Know the Secret in the Back of My Skull

by theshipsfirstmate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: #ISITREAL, F/M, post-5x05 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/pseuds/theshipsfirstmate
Summary: Post-5x05. Because “Is it real?” will probably haunt me forever. (And also because there was a weird continuity jump that bugged me so much I felt compelled to write it out to make more sense.)
"It probably says something, Felicity thinks as they both shy away from the moment, that she feels guiltier for telling Oliver the truth than she does about lying to Billy, but so much of her carefully-constructed calm seems to be hinging on not examining those motivations too closely."





	

_Title from “[Ache for You](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DY45kLVFvukE&t=MGZiYmFjZWI2NDZjNGEwYzYzYjJjNTcxY2U4ZDQ5MjM0OGNjYzYyMCwzSkFwY3NUYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AiAw4tJIAalN1OvhWtUFPsQ&m=1)” by Ben Lee._

**You Know the Secret in the Back of My Skull**

Is it real?

She knows that the question’s coming before he even asks, sees it in his eyes before she tees him up. She can still read him that well.

He was nervous about telling her what he knows of Billy, that’s the tension she had seen clouding his gaze, but as soon as that’s out in the open, it clears the way to the more earnest follow-up, the detail that really matters most to both of them.

_Is it real?_

She’s imagined a hundred different ways that he could find out about the new man in her life, but selfishly realizes now that all of them involved her actual presence in some way; Oliver catching them out on a date or kissing at the police station or even at the loft. Never like this, where she was the only one being taken by surprise.

It probably says something, Felicity thinks as they both shy away from the moment, that she feels guiltier for telling him the truth than she does about lying to Billy, but so much of her carefully-constructed calm seems to be hinging on not examining those motivations too closely.

_Is it real?_

And _that’s_ the question anyway, isn’t it? Felicity’s never been more grateful for an interruption than she is when Oliver’s phone buzzes with John and Rene’s findings. Because _“I don’t know”_ is the best she can muster, and even that might be a stretch.

She’s been bouncing it around in the back of her head for months now, ever since the new cop in town kissed her halfway through their first date, ever since she realized later that she wanted to him to do it again. Billy’s continued to surprise her, and she’s surprised herself even more in the process. Like a month or so ago, when she handed him the spare key to the loft she used to share with someone else.

She leaves Oliver standing in the living room while she runs upstairs to change into something more appropriate for a late-night-into-early-morning on official Green Arrow business. He seems content to wait, but her skin is crawling as she shuts the door to the master bedroom maybe a little harder than she intends.

She’s hyper aware of the traces of Billy in this space, more so now than ever before. He left his half-knotted tie on the side of her dresser that seems to unofficially belong to him now, and the sheets are still rumpled from their afternoon tryst. Felicity’s heart twists a little when she remembers that they had ended up in bed in the first place because of a conversation about Oliver.

_“Don’t you ever feel like you want to get your own place?”_ Billy had been working his way around mentioning her ex-fiance, obviously maneuvering the conversation towards the annoucement that he had joined the mayor’s task force. But’s it’s not the first he’s asked. He’s posed some variation on the same question more than a few times since finding out she and Oliver used to live in the loft together.

_“What do you mean? This is my own place.”_ She played dumb as she leaned in to innocently peck his lips, desperately thankful that their relationship is young enough that a potential fight can still be sidelined for sex.

She stares at the hastily-made bed for a long moment now, remembering too many things at once. She’s still getting used to sleeping on the left side, but in the moment weeks ago, when Billy had asked, it seemed preferable to letting him lie where Oliver once did. If she’s honest with herself, it still does.

_Is it real?_

Oliver’s fine with her new relationship, that’s what he said, as if he’s taken some real, quality time to mull through the pros and cons. After catching her breath from the unexpected gut punch, Felicity had no choice but to admit to herself that, subconsciously, that was the one of reasons she kept talking herself out of telling him.

She wasn’t really worried about him being angry, or jealous. She wasn’t scared he might beat Billy up or make trouble for him at work. Truthfully, she was most anxious about him being happy for her. She was worried that, on top of everything else she got wrong about their relationship, it was also foolish of her to believe that he’d fight for them.

It might be selfish on some level, but it’s deep-seated in familiar feelings, a recurring theme in her emotional existence. Her mother had wanted what was best for her, Cooper sacrificed his freedom for her own and later, his life for hers, but no one’s ever put their entire self on the line just to keep her. Some naive, hopelessly romantic part of her had hoped that Oliver might be the first.

_Is it real?_

If their situations were reversed, would she be asking him the same question right now? Felicity thinks it’s unlikely as she stands uselessly in her walk-in closet, feeling a pang of something deep in her bones that’s almost certain she wouldn’t have to. Oliver gives himself so fully to everything, and everyone, that he cares about. She wouldn’t have to ask. She’d be able to see it on his face.

What she can’t quite parse out, though, is what it means that he’s here now, asking her soft, earnest questions instead of growling green about her commitment to the team or the dangers of getting involved with a police officer in a precinct riddled with corruption and facing new threats every day. What does it mean that he learned of her deception and his first instinct was to come and see her, just to tell her that his feelings had been hurt? What does he see on _her_ face when they talk about moving on? More importantly, what’s he looking for?

This is not the version of Oliver she ever expected to land on her balcony at 2:30 in the morning, that much Felicity understands for certain. She had braced herself for confrontation laced with hurt and a hint of betrayal, not almost hopeful questions about doors that might be left open.

She shakes her head like it’ll clear the onslaught of conflicting emotions that are spin-cycling through her brain, finally tossing on a simple dress and a fresh coat of lipstick. She stops short of a quick cheek pinch for color when she notices in the mirror that she’s already a little flushed.

_Is it real?_

She can see Oliver from the second story landing before she starts descending the stairs, and it’s clear he’s been pacing. It’s strange, how he doesn’t look like he fits here anymore, even though she hasn’t really changed that much about the loft’s layout or decor. But then he turns to face her, taking in her new outfit with a quick flutter of lashes before his eyes meet her own, and it feels so familiar she has to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ll meet you at the bunker, but… I should probably go out the way I came,” he says, voice cracking as he breaks the silence once she’s back on his level. Oh, right. He’s supposed to be dead. Again. She’s starting to lose count of how many times she’s mourned him. It doesn’t seem to stop her heart from breaking.

“Lock the balcony door?” he asks over his shoulder, moving back out toward the overhang, and the request freezes Felicity in place before Oliver even has a chance to realize what he’s said.

It’s a holdover line, a throwback to their life together. Every night, without fail, he would double-check every entrance and exit in their house – and later, this very apartment – before following her up to bed. Felicity tried not to tease him about it, sensing the vulnerable undertones in his intense compulsiveness, but the balcony sometimes cracked her up.

_“Who’s going to get in that way?”_ she’d ask with a grin, just to be obstinate, wrapping her arms around his back and taking one last moment to enjoy the view. _”It’s a twenty-story climb.”_

It’s an ironic memory to call up tonight, she realizes, but not entirely inappropriate. After all, he is still one of the things he fears the most. And he might not be wrong about that, at least when it comes to her, to them.

While she’s lost in thought, Oliver disappears into the night without another word, and Felicity does lock the balcony doors behind him before heading down to the garage. It’s not until she’s grabbing her keys off the hook by the front door that she realizes Billy probably should have come over, or at least called her, by now. She hadn’t even noticed how late it was.

_Is it real?_

Felicity pulls her car out to the street, and watches in her rearview until Oliver’s bike swings out behind her, maneuvering smoothly until he’s in front. She’s a little grateful for the extra level of secrecy tonight, not sure she could be handle sharing the small, confined space of the car right now

Oliver drives slower than she expects, like he’s trying to wait for her without obviously stalling, just keeping her in his mirrors. He pulls into the lot first, but waits for her there too, puttering around with his bike until she’s walking in beside him. Felicity wonders if this is just another part of their new normal, dragging their feet to stay a little closer to each other.

They head downstairs in silence, snapping into business mode once Digg and Rene meet them at the elevator doors. But even as they start to work through the plan, Oliver keeps catching her eye across the room. Whatever it is that’s still there between them is laid bare in his expression, like he’s lowered all of his walls and is daring her to cross the breach. Part of her wants to, still, but the rush of recognition no longer takes her by surprise. It just means she’s lying to herself in a different direction.

She still looks at him sometimes and imagines a thousand miles stretched out in front of them, fifty or so good years they could have had together. She still looks at him sometimes and sees the man that stood with her at an altar and said his vows like he meant them. She still looks at him sometimes and sees her heart.

_Is it real?_

Felicity’s worried she’ll never know for sure, unless it feels like this.


End file.
